


we're in love with our best friends

by polyamory



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Artist Steve Rogers, Asexual Character, Asexual Natasha Romanov, Asexual Relationship, Asexual Steve Rogers, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Character, Coming Out, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hipster Steve Rogers, Multi, OT4, Picnics, Pining, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Shopping Malls, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 09:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4055278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyamory/pseuds/polyamory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loves Bucky, probably has since they were children, tearing through Brooklyn together and making their parents' hairs go gray. And he loves Darcy, with her soft face and her sharp tongue, and their one year anniversary is coming up soon. And he loves Natasha, behind all her walls, loves her grace and her dorky side and her impressive knife collection.<br/>He loves them all and it hits him like a tidal wave, faster than a running horse, and it sweeps his feet out from under him, but he's surprisingly okay for all that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're in love with our best friends

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Four Leaf Clovers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305984) by [Propriety_is_not_a_priority](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Propriety_is_not_a_priority/pseuds/Propriety_is_not_a_priority). 



> this is the longest fic i have written to date and i am honestly amazed that i ever managed to finish it at all  
> bucky/darcy/steve/nat is far, far too rare and that made me sad so i wrote some.  
> thanks to emerson for beta!!  
> also, the russian proverb natasha tells darcy means "falling in love is like a mouse falling into a box - there's no way out"
> 
> i hope you like it and if you do consider commenting c:
> 
> (also just to be clear vertical lines are for pov switch and a paragraph break means some time has passed)

The sun is brilliantly bright above them, the air hot and suffocating as it presses down on them like a real, physical weight. The potted plants that stretch their leaves above them barely provide enough shade to make the afternoon heat bearable.

"What if we just don’t get up again until summer is over?" Bucky groans next to him.

"What, should I wake you up when September ends?" Steve chuckles, turning his head just in time to catch Bucky glaring at him halfheartedly.

Bucky’s hair is pushed away from his forehead and he's taken off his shirt and is lying on it now to protect his back from the heat of the concrete.

"Why are we up here again?" Bucky says, glaring around at the rooftop garden they've snuck onto. There's barely enough space for both of them to sprawl their lanky teenage limbs without touching, which would just be sweaty and sticky in this heat.

"You said something about catching a breeze. Or tanning, maybe," Steve muses.

"Mmmh," Bucky makes a noncommittal noise

For a moment, Steve thinks the heat has finally gotten to Buck and he's fallen asleep but then out of the corner of his eye he catches the motion of Bucky leaning up on his elbow, propping his head in his hand.

"Wh'sit, Bucky?"

"Steve. Stevie, hey! You with me?" Bucky waves a hand in front of his face.

Steve bats his hand away lazily.

"'Course I'm with you. 'Till the end of the line, right?"

"Yeah, right." Bucky grins, "Hey, you wanna make out?"

Steve is abruptly and ruthlessly pulled out of his heat-induced haze.

"Wha?"

"Make out, you know, fool around, necking, slug wrestling, tonsil tennis..."

"Ugh," Steve wrinkles his nose, "Swear to god, Bucky. Where do you even pick up these things? 'Cause I know damn sure it's not with me."

"Whatever. So, you wanna or not?" Bucky's eyes are quickly losing their mischievous spark and Steve just can't have that, now can he?

"Sure, sure, yeah," he scrambles to say and cringes at himself. Way to sound overeager, Rogers.

"You ever done this before ... with a girl?" Bucky asks, his smirk all the way back to cocky.

"Stop being an ass," Steve grumbles, shoving at his shoulder lightly, "you know damn well I haven't or else you woulda been there. The only time girls ever talk to me is when you drag me out with you."

"Aw, come on now, Stevie, don't be sour. It'll be like practice, so you know what to do when the right girl comes along." Bucky grins. "It's not gonna be, like, gay or anything," he adds at Steve's unimpressed look.

"Two guys making out, pretty sure that's, like, the definition of gay, pal," Steve drawls, still looking up at Bucky.

"Fine. If you don't want to, whatever," Bucky hisses.

Steve opens his mouth to say something but Bucky's already on his knees, his feet and stomping away into the shadows of the stairwell.

There are ice flowers growing on the window and his breath hangs in the air in front of his face and Steve feels like he's never gonna feel warm again in his whole life.

He doesn't think he even remembers what breathing through his nose feels like.

He tells Bucky that, when Bucky comes in with a third and fourth blanket, dumping them unceremoniously on Steve.

"'Course you don't," Bucky grumbles, "you've been sick for two weeks."

"Aw, I didn't know you cared, Buck."

"Never said I did, did I? Scoot over, Rogers. I swear to god it's like you want to die of hypothermia."

"Nah," Steve snuffles. "Not today, at least."

He burrows deeper under the blankets as Bucky lifts the smallest possible corner to crawl under the covers with him, wrapping his arm around Steve and pulling him close.

The fact that he even lets Steve bury his cold nose in Bucky's neck is testament to just how worried he is.

Slowly, Bucky's body heat starts seeping through their layers of clothing. Bucky grabs Steve's hands and guides them under his shirt to press them against the smooth warm skin of Bucky's stomach.

Steve is sure he hears the murmur in his heartbeat get more pronounced for a moment there.

He tries not to let himself linger on the thought of skin against skin, especially not when Bucky shivers at the first touch of Steve's hands. It doesn't help that when he screws his eyes shut and presses his face further into the crook of Bucky's neck, he's surrounded by Bucky's wintery cold smell.

There's a rustle above his head and then he swears he can feel Bucky press a kiss to his hair, light as a feather and sweet as the first ray of sun.

Steve looks up at that, he can't not, meeting and holding Bucky's eyes.

They stare at each other for a long moment until hesitantly, oh-so-hesitantly, Bucky leans forward and presses their chapped lips together in a dry kiss.

Steve's heart breaks into a drum solo and Bucky should be able to feel it from this close, the way they're wedged together head to toe, legs tangling.

Bucky pulls back and looks at Steve for a second as if looking for his reaction until he leans in again.

Their lips are dry, their cold noses bumping together and Steve's hearing aid is pressing uncomfortably behind his ear where he forgot to take it out and still Steve thinks he might die from this.

He has to tell himself very firmly to calm down. After all, this isn't gay, not for Bucky. It's just training until the right girl comes along.

And even if Steve wants more, more of this, more of everything, if this is all he gets he'll gladly take it.

If dry, winter cold practice kisses are all he ever gets he'll gladly take it.

And if all he ever gets to be to Bucky is his best friend then that's enough, because it's so much and it's more than first grade Steve Rogers ever imagined he would have. So yes, it's enough.

It'll be enough.

* * *

 It's not like he's running away from anything, Bucky tells himself. He just wants to broaden his horizon, experience a different culture, polish up his language skills.

It'll look great on his resume later.

And that is the only reason he's signing up for a year abroad in Russia. The only.

It does not have anything to do with Steve and his skinny wrists and his big glasses and bigger eyes or the way he won't quite look Bucky in the eye since that ill-advised kiss in February.

And besides, his mom went to Russia when she was in University and she says he'll love it there. She even still has contact with her old host family and they have a daughter that's his age so they'll get to save some money on that, too.

"And I still get to take my exams with the rest of you at the end of the year, so it's not like I'll stay behind or anything," he's telling Steve and Sam as he's cramming the last of his things into his suitcase.

"Still, it's a whole year," Steve near-whines. He's lying on Bucky's bed, arms stretched up in the air above his face, playing with one of Bucky's pencils.

Bucky snatches it out of his hands and stuffs it into the suitcase too, just so he doesn't have to watch Steve twirl it around his long, thin fingers anymore.

"And you," Bucky turns, pointing at Sam, "make sure he's being fed, okay?" He gestures at Steve, whose indignant squawk goes ignored by both of them. "I'm leaving him in your capable hands."

"I'll get him back to you in one piece, Barnes," Sam smirks. "Don't you worry your pretty little head."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head," Steve starts singing, interrupted by Bucky's groan.

"Nooooo, no Taylor Swift under my roof, you understand me?" He levels one threatening finger at Steve. "Now help me get this suitcase closed, or are you just gonna watch me work all day?" He grins, plopping down on top of the suitcase as Steve and Sam help him zip the whole thing up.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's gonna explode as soon as you open it," Sam says, stepping back and surveying their work.

"It'll be a nice surprise for border control," Steve adds, wisecrack that he is.

"Ugh, stop. They'll never let me into the country," Bucky groans, flopping back on the bed and throwing his arm across his eyes.

Steve lands across Bucky's chest when he jumps onto the bed after him, and a second later Sam is at Bucky's other side, throwing his arm across Bucky so it lands on Steve's back.

They don't talk after that, just lie there, finding comfort in touch more than they could express in words, until Bucky's mom comes upstairs to tell them they have to leave for the airport.

His mother is right, Bucky loves Russia.

Natasha and her parents pick him up from the airport, and she explains in English that she will be his host student and they live on a farm a little outside of town.

Bucky actually falls asleep on the drive there and is woken by Natasha shaking his shoulder. She turns away as soon as she sees he's awake and helps him carry his suitcase into the house.

His suitcase does end up exploding in a wave of underwear and socks when he gently tries to open it, tugging at the zipper with his one hand with the suitcase wedged between his feet so it'll stay where it is.

Natasha hears the commotion from her room next to his and comes over, presumably just to laugh at him.

She's okay, though, he decides. Not very talkative, but that may just be because of her accent. She was trying really hard to speak with an American accent at the airport. Maybe she's embarrassed or something.

But other than that she's cool. She doesn't stare at his stump and there's no pity in her eyes and when she sneaks into his room later that night to show him her collection of knives he thinks yeah, they're definitely going to be friends.

She bursts out laughing (again) the first time she hears him speak Russian and after that her words flow more freely.

The next day she shows him around the farm, shows him the cows and the fields and the horses and when she hears he's never ridden a real horse (because "ponies don't count, they're for children at carnivals, Barnes!") she's determined to give him riding lessons and get him into a saddle.

She tells him about how she wants to be a ballerina or a gymnast or possibly a knife thrower (he doubts that’s a real job, honestly) and when she asks about his arm, the Russian flowing smooth and gentle like honey, he doesn't brush it off with a sarcastic answer.

He tells her about going skiing with his parents in the Rocky Mountains, how one moment he'd been racing down the mountain side and the next he'd been falling, tumbling, crashing.

There are tears on his face by the end of it, loath as he is to admit it, but Natasha just hugs him tight and doesn't say a word for the rest of the night.

"Call me Tasha," she tells him the next morning, and he feels like he's earned some kinda badge of honor.

"Only if you call me Bucky," he shoots back, grinning.

"Bucky," she tries it out, as if tasting the word before nodding decisively. "Saddle up, Bucky, we've got a long day ahead of us."

A couple of weeks later when he asks her about a hairdresser, or the Russian equivalent of a hairdresser, she looks him up and down critically and says, "You should let it grow out."

So he does.

On the night before school starts Bucky is lying awake, staring at the ceiling and willing his stomach to stop churning so he can finally go to sleep, when his door creaks open.

"You're still awake," Natasha says.

"Yeah," Bucky croaks, sitting up and running his hand through his hair which is getting longer and longer. "You can't sleep either?"

"I wanted to tell you something," Natasha says, settling down across from him on the mattress.

"Ooooookay, way to be ominous, Tasha."

"Ominous?"

"Foreboding?" he tries and she gives a minuscule nod.

"They tell stories about me at school."

"Rumors," Bucky guesses.

"Lies." Tasha spits the word. "They tell lies about things they know nothing about. And they couldn't be more wrong." She looks at him for a long moment in the near darkness. "I just wanted you to know that."

She moves as if to get up but Bucky stops her with an outstretched hand.

"Woah, what kinda stories?"

"They call me – suka."

The word is unfamiliar but Bucky's pretty sure he knows what it means by the way Tasha is avoiding his eyes and for the first time since he's known her she looks ashamed.

He's got the feeling there's a million things she's still not telling him, but that's okay.

"Hey," Bucky tries, reaching towards her and waiting until she looks up at him. "I know you're not that, though. I know you."

She cracks a smile then, shaking her head. "It's just, they're so wrong."

Bucky is about to ask what she means by that when she says, with an air of confession, "I'm asexual. I don't feel sexual attraction."

The words hang in the air between them until Natasha looks up, steel in her gaze.

"No, no, I don't have a problem with that," he assures her. "I don't."

Her posture eases at that and she slumps forward and into his chest and they fall asleep like that, Natasha's head on his chest and her hair tickling his nose.

School is different than anything Bucky is used from back home and he sticks close to Tasha's side for the whole first day which he thinks is as much for his benefit as it is for hers.

After a few weeks word gets out that Natasha is dating the American and – they are. Kind of, in a way.

Natasha is scary enough to keep the people away who think Bucky is gonna be an easy target just because he's missing an arm and he's not from around here (apparently she's known for her killer gymnastic moves and her collection of knives). And Bucky with his leather jacket and his black eyeliner that Tasha talked him into ("It brings out your eyes, Barnes, now stop blinking and hold still or I will stab your eye out and it's not gonna be an accident.") is apparently scary enough to make people shut up about Natasha.

Or maybe it's just the fact that they think Natasha and he are fucking.

Which is, quite frankly, hilarious, because literally all they do is cuddle and fall asleep on each other.

* * *

 When Bucky comes back from Russia just in time for exams he's grown at least a head taller and his hair frames his face and he's got stubble on his face and his eyes are rimmed in smudges of black which makes them seem even bluer and Steve thinks maybe his asthma attack isn't wholly just from running across the airport.

When Bucky comes back from Russia he also brings his new girlfriend, a fierce, intense redhead, who looks at Steve with a gaze of steel and a face of marble.

Steve itches to draw her.

He itches to draw Bucky, too, in smudges of charcoal that fit his new rumpled look.

When he scoops Steve up into a hug, because Steve still hasn't hit his growth spurt, Steve can literally not help but notice how firm Bucky's chest is because his face is literally mushed against it, not that he's complaining.

Bucky steps away far too soon, holding him at arm's length and letting his gaze roam over him, drinking him in like a drowning man looks at a ship on the horizon.

"Good to have you back, pal," Steve grins.

"Stevie," Bucky grins back and it's so good to finally hear Bucky say his name again. "You have changed."

"Says you," Steve snorts.

It's a lie. He's barely grown an inch this whole year and he's still skinny as a chicken with the same thick glasses and the same myriad of illnesses and complications.

"Oh, come on I haven't changed that much," Bucky laughs. "Oh, and this is Natasha," he presents with a flourish.

"Steve, nice to meet you," he introduces himself, sticking out his hand for her to shake.

She takes it, eyes never leaving his, and her grip is sure and firm. "Natasha," she says finally.

"Hey, didn't your mom and dad come?" Bucky asks him.

"Oh, no. Sam is driving us. He's got his driver's license now. Oh, look there he is."

"I've got parking for ten minutes before I'm getting towed, better get a move on, you guys," Sam says as soon as he's standing with them. "Hey Bucky, man, good to see you."

"Heard you got your driver's license. God help us all!"

"Better me than you," Sam grins, "and you are?"

"Oh, right. Sam, Natasha. Tasha, Sam Wilson, designated driver."

"Haha, no designated driver without a designated car," Sam snarks and so they all start moving towards the exit, pulling Bucky's and Natasha's suitcases along behind them.

They decide to stop at a diner because clearly that's the kind of all-American experience Natasha needs and Bucky tells them about everything he did in his year abroad.

"Horse riding, seriously?"

"Da," Bucky grins and Steve has to stifle a snort.

"Is that still the only word of Russian you speak?" he asks, which of course starts Bucky in on a swearing spree in Russian that makes Natasha roll her eyes as she sips her milkshake and takes in her surroundings.

"Anything else you wanna do on your first day on American soil?" Bucky turns to her.

Her grin turns wicked and there's a dangerous sparkle in her eye that even Steve can see but Bucky just grins even wider when she says,

"Do you have a shooting range here?"

* * *

 "Okay, that's enough," Sam says, two weeks after Bucky's left for Russia, "you've been moping and sulking and pining for two weeks now, so either you get your skinny ass up and moving or I'm gonna get a bucket of ice water or so god help me."

"But Saaaaaaam," he whines, flopping onto his back on the bed. The sky outside is blue and it's a beautiful summer's day.

"Come one, Rogers. Up and at 'em." Sam pulls him off the bed, because he can and Steve weighs about as much as a baby kitten.

"Hey, Jane just came back from her trip, you wanna go over to her house?"

"Where did she go again?" Steve asks.

"New Mexico," Sam grins, bastard, he knows he's got Steve now.

"What a weird vacation, honestly."

Sam just shrugs and leads the way out of Steve's room.

Jane's door swings open almost as soon as they knock and they're met by Jane, grinning huge and slightly sun-burnt.

"Sam, Steve, hey guys," she greets.

"Hey Jane," Steve smiles, "good to see you again. How was New Mexico?"

"Ugh, it was great, lemme tell you," she says, leading the way into her apartment. "There's like zero light pollution there and you can see so many stars. You would've loved it," she says to Steve.

There's a girl lounging on Jane's couch with dark hair and a soft face. She seems vaguely familiar, Steve thinks, he must've seen her with Jane before.

"Oh, guys, this is Darcy, I don't know if you guys know each other," Jane says, plopping down on the couch next to Darcy.

"No, we don't," Darcy grins, "but it's entirely my pleasure." She drops her feet into Jane's lap, stretching out her hand to shake first Sam's and then his hand.

"Darcy Lewis," she introduces herself, "you ever need to tase somebody, I'm your girl."

"Stop it," Jane says, smacking her shin lightly. "You're gonna scare them away."

"I got a taser for my birthday so I could defend myself and Jane alone in New Mexico," Darcy confides, ignoring Jane's interjection.

Jane and Darcy tell them all about their vacation, about the heat in the day and the bitter coldness of the desert at night. Jane spends almost as much time talking about the Swedish guy she met as she spends telling them about the stars and how amazing and wonderful they were.

She even shows Steve some pictures she took with long exposure, while Darcy grumbles about camping out in the desert for hours and freezing off her toes.

The pictures are beautiful, not just the stars, but also how they are composed artistically and Steve can't help but express his appreciation.

"These look amazing, Jane," he smiles. "You ever thought about doing more with photography?"

"I don't know, maybe." Jane shrugs, a loose motion.

One afternoon Steve sits down with his laptop and figures his shit out.

He had (has) a crush on Bucky for most of their shared childhood and he still remembers those winter kisses, but he doesn't think he's gay. He does like girls, too, but most of all he just? Can't really imagine himself having sex. Like, at all. Not even with Bucky and he can imagine himself doing most anything with Bucky.

He can enjoy the view, sure, appreciates broad chests and strong arms just as much as he appreciates soft curves and amazing thighs. He even finds himself wanting to touch from time to time, to feel smooth, warm skin under his fingertips, but he has no desire for sex.

So he scours the internet for answers because he learned long ago that if you want answers the internet is the most helpful place to look. (He's also learned to be suspicious of the information he finds online, but whatever. It's still super helpful.)

In the end he comes up with two things: asexual and biromantic.

Steve spends the summer coaxing Jane out of her house with her camera and running with Sam. He wants to get fitter because he's a junior now and it's about time.

Honestly, this is getting ridiculous and he's just so sick of his body failing him all the time and having to rely on machinery and medicine to get him through the day.

Now he might not be able to fix his eyes or his sub-par hearing but he can build up a little stamina and that's better than nothing.

So he goes jogging with Sam and in the afternoons he teaches Jane how to handle the big lenses and what the different camera settings are for.

Often Darcy tags along on their little expeditions into the park, spreading out in the grass while Steve and Jane lean over their cameras.

It's the end of the summer holidays and today she's brought a picnic blanket and a book to make the best of the last days of summer.

She's lying on her back, glasses balanced on her nose, and the book held above her.

When Jane wanders off into the trees to look for a good motif Darcy sits up, her sharp eyes finding Steve's.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah, Darce?" He likes to think they've become pretty good friends over the last few weeks.

"You wanna go out on a date sometime?" Darcy asks, all casual like, but Steve can see the way she's fidgeting with the pages of her book.

"A what?" he asks, momentarily stunned

"A date," Darcy repeats, all patience and no snark for once.

"Um, sure." At Darcy's skeptical look he adds, "no, that sounds great actually. I'd love to." He shuts up before he can talk himself into a hole.

"Great," Darcy smiles wide and genuine, "though I have to warn you, I don't do sex."

"Wha- no, I would've never assumed- I mean- I didn't think that you-" Steve stammers, blushing furiously.

"No I mean, never," Darcy interrupts. "I don't do sex ever. I'm ace. And biromantic for that matter." She says it like it's nothing, like it's easy.

Steve's chest tightens but he squeezes out the words anyway. "Me too."

"What?" Darcy looks at him.

"I mean, literally. Me too. I'm bi ace. Me too."

And if he'd thought Darcy's smile before had been genuine it's nothing in comparison to this, bright and beautiful like a supernova as she leaps forward to throw her arms around his neck.

Somehow without Steve really noticing it his circle of friends grows overnight. Where it had only been Bucky and then Sam once, now there is Jane and with her Darcy, who's a little more than just a friend to him, and Darcy's friends, Maria and Sharon and Sharon's cousin Peggy who had moved here from the UK.

It's still not huge and it doesn't make him miss Bucky any less, a constant aching behind his heart, but it's more than ever before and none of them make comments about his hearing aids or his inhaler and they're all wonderfully smart and funny.

He gets along especially well with Peggy.

Right now they're sitting in a diner surrounded by their friends and having a discussion about the military.

"But my problem is with any institution," Peggy is saying, "that refuses to address rampant sexual trauma."

"Are you quoting Law and Order at me?"

"Point still stands," she huffs.

"No, it does," Steve agrees. "Never said it didn't."

"So there," Peggy says, flicking a fry at him.

"So there," Steve agrees, smiling.

"Hey, hey, sorry I'm late," Darcy calls as she falls into the seat next to him, her cheeks rosy pink from the autumn breeze outside. "Hey, babe," she grins, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"You two are disgusting," Sharon calls from across the table, throwing a chip at them as Steve blushes.

"Look who's talking," Peggy grins with a pointed look at Sharon and Maria who are practically in each other's lap.

"Hey to you too," Steve says to Darcy, ignoring the commotion going on at their table. "How was work?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Darcy groans, pulling the beanie from her head. "If I hear one more time that the Spice Cinnamon Latte is too spicy, I swear to fucking god. And also Jane keeps emailing me from frickin' Sweden, you know, she's doing that science internship thing and she keeps talking about Thor, who's apparently the love of her life and he has a golden retriever puppy who's her best friend now. I've been replaced by a puppy, Steve."

"Aw, babe."

"Pity me," Darcy pouts, slumping against his shoulder.

"I always do. I mean you do have to put up with me on a regular basis and if that's not enough reason for pity-"

"Oh, shut your hole, Rogers," Darcy says, poking him in the ribs and making him yelp.

"Aw, love you, too, Lewis."

Steve blushes as soon as he realizes what he's said but Darcy just mumbles into his shoulder before stealing his fries.

* * *

When Bucky comes back from Russia and Steve meets him at the airport Steve's shaved half his head and he's wearing different glasses now and big flannel shirts that make his shoulders look tiny in comparison and, okay, he hasn't really grown and he still looks like he's one strong gust of wind away from falling over, but damn it if he's not one of the most beautiful things Bucky has seen this year. (Alongside Natasha and Grusha, the horse Natasha eventually got him to ride, which was equal parts terrifying and beautiful.)

When Bucky comes back from Russia Steve also has a girlfriend, Darcy, who meets them later on at Steve's house. She's all luscious curls from her hair to, you know, the rest of her, and her eyes are bright behind her glasses.

She's a good fit for Steve, he decides, much better than he would've been for Steve.

But he's got Natasha now, they have each other, and he adores her absolutely.

Bucky watches Natasha watch Steve as they lounge on Steve's bed.

"So you're Bucky?" a voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he turns to Darcy. "Heard a lot about you."

"And you're Darcy."

"The one and only," she grins. Her grin is wide and happy and she looks honestly interested in getting to know him and he thinks he could like her, if given the chance to get to know her.

Later after Natasha and he leave Steve's to settle in back at Bucky's place, Natasha says, "So that's Steve, then."

There's something like laughter in her voice.

Bucky grunts as she tackles him to the bed, laughing at him in earnest now.

"I like him, though he looks so fragile." She furrows her brows.

"He's tougher than he looks, believe me. He doesn't need a knife collection to stand his ground." Bucky laughs, tumbling them around so he's leaning above Tasha.

"Don't front. You love my knife collection."

"It's the only reason I'm staying with you," Bucky admits, nodding sagely.

"I'm leaving you for Steve and Darcy," Tasha laughs, throwing him off her again.

"Is that supposed to be a threat, Tasha? 'Cause I think I can live with that mental image," Bucky grins.

"Oh you devil," Tasha mutters, spreading out on the bed next to him.

"I'm glad you like him," Bucky admits, the words somehow easier to say in the darkness.

"He's important to you," Natasha says, and after a moment, "You should talk to him. For real."

"For real?" Bucky asks, snickering at her across the pillow.

"What?" Tasha asks, turning onto her side to face him.

"Nothing," Bucky smiles.

"You're just trying to change the topic," Tasha huffs. "God forbid we talk about feelings. I'm shaking my head at you," she says sullenly.

Bucky's snort is unexpectedly loud in the darkness and a moment later Tasha is laughing too and then there's literally no stopping them anymore.

* * *

 "So," Bucky starts, pillowing his head on his arm. "You and Darcy, eh?"

"Oh, come one," Steve laughs, "don't even. You and Natasha fit really well together."

"Yeah, she's amazing," Bucky agrees.

"So I take it you've been doing well then," Steve smiles at him, turning his head so he can look at Bucky from where he's lying next to him.

"Russia was great, but I'm glad to be home." Then, "I missed you."

Steve inhales shuddering. Bucky doesn't dare look at him.

"I missed you too," Steve says eventually. He sounds choked.

"Look, Stevie. 'M sorry I didn't write you, okay?"

"I didn't even have an address to write to you." Bucky is afraid that if he looks over now Steve is gonna be crying. He certainly sounds like he's crying.

Bucky looks over anyways because it's the least Steve deserves, to have Bucky look him straight in the eyes while he says it.

"I know and I'm sorry. I was an ass," he admits. "I was, I don't know, running away, looking for a new start, something."

"You could've just told me." Steve turns too and now they're just lying on the carpet in his room, staring at each other across the space between them.

There never used to be any space between them when they were younger.

When it finally happens (and Tasha would probably sigh in the long suffering way she does and say, "Well, it's been a long time coming, zaychik.") it happens completely by accident.

It's ass o'clock in the morning and he's descended into the depth of the interwebs and from somewhere comes a post about sexuality.

Bucky reads it all and, well, there's just so much more than he imagined?

He's always figured, you know, he likes girls (most of the time) so he's straight and if he just ignores the thing with Steve where his stomach drops and his heart rate shoots into the sky then that's perfectly okay isn't it because he's not gay, he does like girls (just not all of the times).

But then apparently there's all kinds of different things like asexual (he already knew that one) and pansexual (has nothing to do with pans) and bisexual. And, okay, so this one he thinks he could be down with.

But then there's apparently also different words for romantic and sexual attraction and that's the point where it all kind of gets a little too much for Bucky and he shuts off his computer and goes to bed.

Still, the word haunts him all night. Bisexual. He repeats it in his head over and over again, says it out loud and rolls the sound of it on his tongue, "I'm bisexual."

He feels like a goof, then, talking to the ceiling in the dark but the words leave a funny taste in his mouth and eventually he falls asleep smiling.

After exams are over Steve's friends throw a (big?) party and Bucky and Tasha are invited, too.

"Of course," Steve says when Bucky looks at him skeptically, as if it's the easiest, most logical thing in the world that Steve's new friends will be okay with him dragging Bucky along to their after-school party.

That is how Bucky finds himself lurking in a corner of the room, still nursing the same cup of beer he's had all evening long. He hates the taste, always has.

He feels thoroughly out of place, in this strange house, surrounded by all of Steve's new, prim friends. (And, okay, it's really not a big party, it's mostly just all of them sitting in the room and talking, muted music masking the silence between conversations.)

It's not that they're rude or terrible, either, it's just that they're all so preppy and neat and Bucky feels all sloppy and smeared like a sticky stain in comparison.

Sam has really grown into his new muscles, and yeah, so has Bucky but his are more the accidental muscles that come as a byproduct of physical labor and helping out around a farm whereas Sam's muscles speak of weight lifting and regular jogging routines.

He's grown a neat little trimmed patch of facial hair, too and his smiles are still just as earnest and sweet as Bucky remembers them.

Then there's the new people that Bucky doesn't know like Darcy, obviously, and Sharon, a blonde girl with a sweet smile but a general air of preppiness and she really seems like she's got her life together.

There's also a girl that Steve introduces as Maria whose hair is frighteningly neat, at least until Sharon ruffles it with her wandering hands when they're making out.

Peggy is equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring because she looks like she could totally kick his ass and she would totally enjoy it, with her bright red lipstick and her tight curls.

They all just look so tidy and put together that Bucky feels he's somehow sullying them just by being in close proximity.

Natasha is deeply engrossed in conversation with Darcy (he's glad she's making friends, absolutely) and so he has no other choice but to sit here silently and try not to listen in on other people's conversations like a creeper.

Okay, but really, he can't help it and then Steve's friends keep teasing him for being such a hipster (not like, in a mean way or anything).

"Guys, I need these glasses to see," Steve is laughing, burying his face in the cup he's holding.

"Uh huh, and you need those over-sized flannel shirts to see, too?" Sam asks, smirking.

"I can't help it, everything is over-sized on me."

"That, is true," Peggy interjects, "He's so tiny."

"Oh my god, you guys. Stop it!" Steve laughs and it's kinda hard to tell from across the room but Bucky could swear Steve is blushing (Steve is always blushing).

* * *

 In the end Darcy is the one who takes Natasha to the mall and shows her the Real All-American Experience™.

"So, you really don't have malls in Russia?" Darcy asks as they make their way through the food court, and dear god, why is it so loud?

"No," Natasha says, "nothing like this."

She might be wrinkling her nose because Darcy laughs, a bright sound, and claps her on the shoulder.

"Yeah, it's very-"

"Yes," Natasha agrees. "Very."

"So, Natasha, what do you wanna do first?"

"Call me Tasha. Also, I don't know. I don't know what's fun around here," she admits. "Show me what you like to do."

"Okie dokie, we'll do it the American way."

Natasha is like 75% sure she's joking.

They end up looking at dick paraphernalia, or more accurately, laughing at dick paraphernalia.

"Why would you- god, why would anyone want to put this up their vagina?" Darcy wheezes as Natasha stares in confusion at the-

"I don't understand. What is it? What is it supposed to do? Is it supposed to go-" She makes a series of vague gestures but Darcy shrugs.

"Don't ask me, I have no idea. I mostly just brought you here for the fun factor."

"I'm asexual," Natasha grits out. Her stomach has turned to lead and her blood has turned into stones, rumbling through her bloodstream and she absolutely did not mean to blurt this out like that.

"Oh hey, me too." Darcy smiles and then she tugs at Natasha's hand. "Come on, let’s get some frozen yogurt."

The frozen yogurt is surprisingly good, even though Darcy calls her boring for liking the plain yogurt flavor best.

"I'm classic," Tasha sniffs, turning her nose up.

Darcy scoffs.

"I'm an acquired taste," she shoots back flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Natasha feels her grin widen, "Doesn't take much to acquire your taste, does it?"

"Oooooh, burn!" Darcy laughs, tugging at one of Natasha's curls.

They go to LUSH afterwards, where a whole army of smells bombards Natasha at once but Darcy insists she buy one of their bath bombs because the are apparently "heaven in a bathtub, Tasha, trust me."

So she does.

"Why is there different music playing in every store?" Natasha grits out, rubbing at the bridge of her nose.

They're back in Darcy's car and it's finally, blessedly silent.

Darcy chuckles softly. "Yeah, I feel you."

She starts up the car and as they're pulling onto the highway she turns to Natasha, "So, you already told me you're ace but can I ask, what's your romantic orientation."

"I don't know," she says honestly. "I don't really feel attraction often enough to say." She makes a complicated shrugging gesture. "So like, grey aro or demiromantic, maybe. I don't know."

"Yeah, I feel," Darcy sighs.

"What about you?" Natasha asks, looking at Darcy from the corner of her eye. The setting sun shines shadows across Darcy's face and halos her, igniting the fine hairs around her head in a golden glow.

"I'm biromantic, but like, kinda demi? Is that a thing? Semi-demi?" She snorts. "It's just, confusing is what it is."

"Same," Natasha says and Darcy's laughter lights the car up brighter than the sunset's creeping rays.

* * *

 Natasha is kinda scary, but like, in a good way. She's very intimidating and she can come across as kind of cold, but Darcy soon learns that that's more a defense than anything else. Because underneath that Natasha is The World's Biggest Ball Of Goof.

She's funny and offers biting sarcastic commentary whenever they watch movies together with Bucky and Steve.

They do a lot of stuff with the boys and no, she refuses to call them double dates because that's one level of high school rom com she doesn't need in her life. (Not with the way she's started kinda maybe staring at Natasha when she laughs and thinking how adorable Bucky looks when he blinks like a kitten because his hair is hanging in his eyes.)

But they also do a lot of stuff just the two of them, like sleepovers for example. And then sometimes Natasha cooks for her, traditional Russian recipes, and sometimes they go out to the diner and Darcy makes Natasha try every item on the menu (not in one single visit, mind you, they eat there a lot).

Natasha is sleeping over tonight too and usually the calm, regular rhythm of her breathing lulls Darcy right to sleep but, well, usually.

Today she's lying awake, her thoughts wandering through the darkness like thieves, grabbing at all the things she doesn't think about during the day, like the Natasha Thing or the Bucky Thing.

Or the Steve And Bucky Thing.

She's noticed, of course she's noticed because come on, Darcy has eyes and she has ears and even if she only had a suspicion back when Steve would tell her all about his and Bucky's childhood adventures it was definitely cemented into knowledge when Bucky came back from Russia.

It isn't even just Steve, it's Bucky, too. It's evident in the way they talk to each other, look at each other, even the way they touch each other. She's surprised neither of them have figured it out yet (but then again, knowing them, she totally isn't).

She can't say exactly how she feels about it. The best word she can come up with is curious.

She's curious about what it means. For Steve and her (she seriously doubts it would break them up or at least she hopes it doesn't), for Nat and Bucky (from what she can tell their relationship isn't particularly romance-centered but it's tightly knit) and most of all for Steve and Bucky (if they ever own up to it and talk about it that is).

Finally she can't stand the silence and the darkness any longer.

"Hey, Tasha," she whispers, "you still awake?"

"No," comes the grumbled answer as Natasha shifts under the covers next to Darcy.

"Hey, Tasha. Tasha!" Darcy sneaks one hand under Natasha's blanket to poke her in the side insistently.

"Ugh, fine," Natasha groans, turning onto her back. "What's up, Darcy?"

"You know that Steve and Bucky have a thing for each other?"

"Oh please," Natasha huffs, "it's clear as day, of course I know."

"You ever talk to Bucky about it?" Darcy asks.

"Nope. You?"

"I've kinda tried but Steve just kept deflecting so I gave up eventually. You think they'll ever do anything about it."

"I don't know," Natasha says. She's always so honest. "Their decision, though."

"You think they'll get over it?" She doesn't even know why she asks it, maybe just because she knows something about living with the ache of unfulfilled longing and she doesn't wish that on anyone.

"влюбился как мышь в короб ввалился."

"What?"

"Go to bed, Darcy," Natasha laughs and turns around, burrowing back under the blankets.

"I'm pretty sure that's not what you just said, is it?" Darcy says, but there's only silence in reply.

Bucky and Darcy bond over movies.

More specifically they bond over action movies and chick flicks.

One night Darcy can't sleep and she's watching explosions and car chases and char chases with explosions and she's writing a text to Steve but in her dazed, half-awake state she accidentally sends it to Bucky (she has him saved as "Steve's friend Bucky" at the time because the only reason she even has his number is so the four of them can coordinate hang out times in the group chat).

She changes his name in her phone to just "Bucky" immediately after but the text is sent and there's nothing to it now but to hope he doesn't see it. Ever. (Okay, it's not like it's embarrassing it's just a series of car emojis and explosion emojis but it's awkward to explain and okay maybe she wants Bucky to think she's cool but whatever he's Steve's best friend and it's important to Steve that they like each other and that totally is the only reason why.)

To her surprise she gets a reply not even three minutes later.

"What are you doing and how do I get in?" it reads.

"Watching ??? I don't even know what it's called. Lotsa cars, lotsa explosions," Darcy writes back.

"Think I found it. Guys in tank tops shooting at each other?"

"And magically no one is ever seriously injured smh," Darcy sends and if she's grinning at her phone like the Cheshire Cat then it's not like anyone's around to see, so did it even really happen? See.

They keep texting like that throughout the movie and the next one that's on which might be a sequel to the first one or might be completely unrelated Darcy really just can't tell.

After that the texting becomes a habit and one night when Bucky lets it slip that he's watching a rom com Darcy calls him, surprised when he actually picks up, just to tease him mercilessly (they both cry in the end but like, whatever, they'll take it to their grave).

* * *

 Bucky can't sleep (again) and he keeps having nightmares (nightmare, singular, the same one over and over again) so he does what he's done on (almost) every bad night in the past few weeks.

He calls Darcy.

"Yeah?" comes the reply when she picks up and she sounds sleepy and Bucky feels immediately guilty for waking her up.

"Sorry for waking you up," he says.

"You didn't," Darcy assures him through a yawn and he snorts. "No, really. You didn't. If you don't believe me turn on your TV. I've been watching Sandra Bullock try to fake a relationship for the last half hour."

He puts her on speaker and puts the phone on his pillow as he leans over the side of his bed to look for the remote.

"I liked her better when she was trying to fake being a beauty queen, honestly," Bucky says as he finally finds the remote lying next to his bed.

"Beauty pageant contestant," Darcy corrects. "She never won, might I remind you."

"Whatever, whatever," Bucky grumbles.

"But you're right. At least then her love interest wasn't Ryan fucking Reynolds."

"Why do we hate him again?" Bucky asks, settling back against the headboard with the glow of the TV lighting up the room. The volume is low, the movie little more than background noise for his conversation with Darcy.

Darcy, he's found, can talk about the smallest, most unimportant things as if they were huge and complex ideas, explaining in detail and providing relevant (and unrelevant) background information. She has so much miscellaneous knowledge that whatever she's happening to be talking about she can always make at least two connections to two other topics, however obscure said connections might be.

It calms him down more effectively than any of the breathing methods or pills the doctors have given him over the years. Just to have her voice in his ear, talking to him, joking with him, it calms him.

"He's like a carbon copy of every other middle-aged white Hollywood star. They all look the same, I can literally not tell them apart."

"True," Bucky agrees.

"So, do you wanna talk about it or nah?" Darcy asks, just like she asks every night he calls her.

"Nah," he says, just like every night and Darcy accepts it without argument. Just like every night.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Bucky asks, something he's never had the courage to do before tonight.

He listens breathlessly as Darcy shifts on her end.

"Nah," she sighs finally, "not really."

"I feel ya."

"Wish I could sleep, though," Darcy goes on.

"Sleep? What is sleep?" Bucky grins and when he hears Darcy's huff of laughter through the phone his grin widens even more.

"Sleep, a state I'm not in," Darcy laughs, playing along.

"Sleep, the 51st state of the United States of America."

"The United States of Insomnia, more like," Darcy huffs.

"True, so true."

Bucky has to suppress a yawn then but apparently Darcy can still hear him (or she's psychic which would seriously not surprise him) because she says, "Go to bed, Bucky."

And the line goes dead.

* * *

 Steve does eventually ask Natasha if he can draw her, scrounges up all his courage and plops down next to her on Bucky's couch.

"Natasha?" he starts cautiously, they haven't really gotten to know each other that well yet.

She looks up from her book, looking curious if a little reserved.

"I was wondering if, and maybe this is gonna sound weird, hopefully not though, but I was wondering if I could draw you?" He's pretty sure he's red as a fire truck by now.

Natasha just smiles though, slow and real.

"Bucky mentioned that you're an artist."

"He did? I mean, I- no, I'm not really. I mean, I dabble, but I'm not really that good or anything." He's blushing even more and he really didn't think that was possible.

"Practice makes perfect, doesn't it?" Natasha grins.

"So does that mean you'll let me draw you?" Steve grins back.

"Okay," Natasha nods. "When do you..." she trails off.

"Now?"

"Now? Okay, fine with me," she agrees.

"Okay, good, great," Steve says and then he switches into art mode almost automatically. "Just, just keep reading," he directs Natasha, mind already on his pencils and charcoals and how he wants to capture the easy grace in every one of Natasha's movements and then maybe later a portrait in watercolors, the lush pink of her lips and the upwards swing of her eyelashes. Steve can see it all forming in his mind.

He loses himself in the repetitive motions of pencil running across smooth, white paper, looking up at Natasha and then glancing down at his drawing again.

Natasha is a great model, too, just keeps reading, seemingly unconcerned with Steve, perched at the edge of his chair and studying her intently.

Darcy always starts fidgeting under the scrutiny, getting self conscious and anxious, and Bucky just doesn't have the patience to sit still for long enough. Steve tried drawing him a few times (back before he left) but it always just ended in Bucky standing up and hovering over his shoulder and Steve snapping good-naturedly, "How am I supposed to draw anything if there's no model there for me to draw, damn it Buck."

Still his sketchbook is filled with them, both Bucky, drawn from memory and stolen glances, and Darcy, when she manages to sit for him and when he manages to catch her in an unguarded moment, burning the memory into his mind to bring it down on paper later.

Now there's Natasha, curled up on the page with a book in her hands, and she looks like she belongs there, in the pages of his sketchbook along with Bucky and Darcy.

* * *

 Hanging out with Steve is fun and relaxing. Mostly they just share the same space, each of them doing their own thing, and sometimes they have conversations about music and books and the state of the world. Sometimes he draws her, she suspects it's more often than he lets her know, but that's okay, and sometimes she watches him draw landscapes or funny little comics.

Today they're at the mall because Steve needs new pencils and Natasha offered to come with him.

They're just sitting on one of the benches around the mall, resting their feet, when suddenly Steve tenses next to her.

"What is it?" she asks, carefully keeping her voice low and her eyes on Steve's face.

"Brock Rumlow," Steve answers, tension making his voice sharp and brittle, like glass shards or bones.

Natasha's only seen Brock Rumlow a couple of times in that one week of exams, but she knows his kind, sharp chin and flinty eyes and she could smell him 10 meters upwind.

"He's coming our way," Steve continues.

Natasha knows a thing or two hundred about meeting unpleasant people in unexpected places and not wanting to be seen or recognized so she does the first thing she can think of to help.

She kneels up on the bench and grips Steve's chin, turning his face towards her and away from Rumlow, and then she kisses him.

It's just a press of lips, but it's just hard enough that she really feels it and when she pulls back Steve gapes at her.

"What- What was that about?"

For a second she thinks she might've overstepped a boundary there, and really, she should've asked, should've really, really asked, but then she sees that there's no anger in Steve's face, just pure surprise.

"Would Brock Rumlow really expect to see you snogging in the mall?" Natasha asks, raising one eyebrow.

"No," Steve concedes. "Also, snogging? You've been hanging around Peggy too much."

"Don't hate, we non-Americans have to bond somehow in this capitalist hell hole."

Steve snorts, "Right, Natasha the communist government spy."

"I have hidden depth," Natasha pouts.

"And knives," Steve adds.

"And knives," Natasha agrees, nodding sagely.

She can tell though that Steve is still thinking about it so she says, "I'm sorry I didn't ask you before I did that."

"No, I- that's not. I'm gonna tell Darcy about this, you should know that. I'm not gonna keep this a secret from her."

"No, I wouldn't think you would. You're a good person, Steve, you don't deserve the way some people," she looks in the direction Rumlow has disappeared into, "treat you. Darcy will understand. I'll talk to her, too. She's my friend, too."

"Yeah, I know. I'm really glad you're here, you know. I'm glad Bucky found you and I'm glad he convinced you to come back here with him."

"So am I," is all she can say. "So am I."

* * *

 Steve's words echo inside her for days after the incident at the mall, the sincerity in his eyes and the set of his jaw.

Natasha marvels at how close she has become to both Steve and Darcy.

Darcy is, cliche as it might sound, she's the best friend Natasha never had.

Back home before Bucky came along she didn't have any friends, no one to talk to and no one who cared except her parents.

Now she has three people (more still if you count their whole friend group) who are willing to talk to her and to listen when she talks and to hold her when she feels homesick.

She can talk to Bucky about back home because he's been there and he knows (and she's finally getting to see all the places he told her about when he got homesick).

Bucky is still her constant, the steady presence next to her, the beating heart under her ear when she falls asleep with her head on his chest and his fingers carding through her hair. But now she has Steve and Darcy, too.

They have each other.

They compliment each other in the best ways. One of them can always lighten the mood when it gets too broody. One of them can always be the referee in whatever silly argument they get into (most notable example is Bucky and Darcy fighting over snail church versus snake church).

One of them always gets up to get new snacks during movie nights.

(That's the most important thing really.)

They fit together like four quarters of a circle, coming back to where they started perfectly, or maybe like the walls of a room and Natasha is caught up in how right it feels, how glorious and perfect as she lies on Steve's bed.

Darcy's head is pillowed on Natasha's stomach and her own head hanging over the edge of the bed to look at Bucky upside down where he's sprawled out on the carpet.

Steve is lounging in the bean bag and he keeps poking Bucky in the side with his toes, not for any reason Natasha can discern, mostly just for something to do.

"I'm so bored," Darcy moans throwing her arm out dramatically. It lands somewhere in the vicinity of Natasha's face and she blows air at it.

"Stop it," Darcy squawks, batting at her face.

"Guys, guys, staaaahp," Bucky calls from the floor, reaching up to hit the side of the bed in emphasis.

Darcy takes her hand back, stretching it out above her instead to inspect her nails.

"So," she says finally, "if you were an animal what animal would you be?" She shuffles around on the bed until she's lying next to Natasha, her chin propped in her hand so she can look down at the boys.

"I'd be a dog, I think," Steve says, head tipped back, staring at the ceiling though he probably can't see it with his glasses off.

"But what kinda dog?" Darcy asks.

"He'd be a golden retriever," Bucky answers for Steve, earning him another poke in the ribs.

"He's right, though," Natasha chimes in, grinning. "You would be."

"I would be a cat," Bucky says, stretching his arm above his head and arching his spine. His shirt rides up with the movement and Natasha catches both Steve and Darcy staring which is interesting to say the least. She'll have to come back to that thought later.

"Hey, I was gonna say that," Darcy pouts at him and she looks, well, adorable.

"What animal would you be, Tasha?" Steve asks, lifting his head and squinting at her.

Her mind flicks back to that image of the four walls, fitting themselves together, and before she can stop it she blurts out, "A mouse."

"A mouse?" Darcy asks, turning to look at her incredulously.

"Yeah, why a mouse?" Bucky chimes in.

"Well," but how can she explain the feeling that they fit together seamlessly, forming the walls to their own little world where it's only the four of them, a sanctuary of sorts, and her mind keeps coming back to that night at Darcy's house and Darcy's voice in the dark and the taste of her mother's wisdom on her tongue as she recited it to Darcy. And of course Darcy didn't understand and how can she explain that she is- oh.

That she is maybe just a little bit in love with all three of them.

Well, shit.

"Tasha? You alright?" That's Bucky.

"Yeah, yeah. Just need to go to the bathroom." She stumbles her way up and to the bathroom where she sinks down on the cold tile floor.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fucking fuck.

How ironic, she can't help but think, to fall in love so rarely as to be near never and to then fall in love with three people at once.

She doesn't even know why she's freaking out about this- no, okay she totally knows.

It's just too much all of a sudden like too many mosquito bites all itching at once and she's overwhelmed. She's overwhelmed and her breath is coming faster and faster and she needs to calm down.

Get a grip, Natasha, she thinks to herself.

It's not the end of the world, after all. She's got Bucky and she's friends with all three of them and she's learned how to be happy with what she can get, has learned that hope is a vicious thing that will eat you alive, will dissolve you like acid and bite to the bone.

So she buries it before it ever has the chance to sprout.

She has Bucky and she loves what she has with him (but what if you don't have him anymore someday? a voice whispers at the back of her head, what if Darcy is right and he decides he wants to be with Steve instead?) and she is friends with Steve and Darcy, good friends (but what happens once you go back to Russia? that same voice hisses, what happens once they forget about you and move on?) and she'll be damned if she lets her feelings ruin that.

"Hey Tasha? Can we talk?" Bucky asks, knocking on the open door.

"What's up?" She pats the bed next to her.

Bucky walks over, sits down, fidgets nervously with the seam of his t-shirt.

"What is it?" Natasha asks again.

"I just, okay, so. How did you know you were asexual?" Bucky peeks up at her through his hair, pulling his legs up to his chest.

"I don't know," Natasha frowns. "I guess I just knew, cause I didn't like sex."

"Yeah, I mean- but how did you know you didn't like sex?" Bucky insists.

"Bucky, you're not trying to give me the 'you just haven't found the right person' talk, are you?" Natasha asks, suddenly on her guard.

"No! No, god Tasha, I would never. You know that, right? I love you as you and wow yeah this got cheesy real fast." Bucky laughs a little embarrassed laugh.

"Okay – and I love you too – but then what's this all about?"

"Well," Bucky mumbles, and he's back to fidgeting with his shirt. "I guess I've just been trying trying to figure some things out about myself."

About damn time, Natasha thinks to herself. Out loud she says, "And?"

"Well, IthinkI'mbisexual," Bucky says in one breath.

"Hey, that's great," Natasha smiles, taking Bucky's hand in hers. "And now you want to know how I knew I was asexual?"

"Yeah," Bucky breathes.

"Well, I guess I just thought about having sex and it was like, yuck. Thanks, but no thanks. Not for me," she shrugs.

"See, when I think about it in kind of an abstract way I think it would be cool," Bucky sighs, leaning into Natasha to bump their shoulders together. "But then when I think about me actually having and doing the sex then it's just. I don't know. I just can't stop thinking about how sweaty and sticky it would be and how awkward especially with just one arm," he lifts his hand to demonstrate his point. "Can you imagine? And then I think, no thanks I could do without that just fine."

"Well, do you feel sexual attraction?" Natasha asks, twining their hands again and stroking a thumb over the back of Bucky's hand.

"I don't know, I guess?" he says, leaning back against the headboard next to her. "I mean, I can recognize when someone is hot."

"So can I," she laughs. "But do you just realize that they're hot, like, objectively, or do you personally say 'I think you're hot and I want to bone you.' I think that's the difference."

"I, well, no I guess not really? I don't know it's just all muddled up and confusing, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," she laughs, "but don't worry. You don't have to figure it out now. Or ever. You could just say you're biromantic and whatever or you can just stick with bisexual. It's really whatever you identify with most."

"Thank you, Nat," Bucky smiles. "You're a real friend, you know?"

Natasha gasps mock-offended. "First you love me and now I'm just a friend?" She clutches her heart dramatically. "Just you wait Barnes!"

With that she grabs a pillow and beats the living hell out of Bucky.

* * *

 After he talks to Natasha, Bucky thinks it's time to tell Steve and Darcy that he's bi. That decision is relatively easy, he knows they'll be cool about it even though he's still nervous.

The real problem is, he has no idea how to do it.

He looks up 'how to come out to your friends' online and he finds a few guides but everything they suggest sounds so horribly stilted and formal and he could never see himself sitting Steve and Darcy down for a 'serious talk' and keeping a straight face.

Though that's the opposite of what he's trying to do.

In the end it's a much more impulsive, spur-of-the-moment decision than he would have thought.

They're staying in today, just the four of them, and playing SingStar on the PlayStation at Steve's house.

Natasha and Steve are wrapped up in an argument over who gets to sing the next song with Darcy throwing popcorn at them so they don't notice when Bucky sneaks over to the controller.

He knows which song he wants and bless Steve for being a nerd and buying the musical themed packet (though Bucky is as much of a musical nerd so he shuts the hell up).

He starts up the song and it's not until he starts singing that Natasha and Steve break of their argument to stare at him.

He doesn't turn around to them to see their expressions because it would just make him laugh but he does hear Darcy's soft "oooh" at just the right moment and then he's throwing himself into the chorus.

Steve chuckles at "so many shades of gray" and Bucky looks over a shoulder to show them all his signature crooked grin when he sings "look at that condescending smirk." Darcy smirks right back and Steve blushes to the roots of his hair.

He's really enjoying himself by the time the tempo picks up and Natasha startles a laugh out of him when she leans forward and says in a sing-song voice, "But if he turns out straight I'm free at eight on Saturday."

He turns around to them for the talking part and when he says "Carlos" they all gasp in unison.

Natasha, to his never-ending surprise, stands up, even climbs onto the couch and calls out, "You bastard, you lying bastard! That's it, I no cover for you, no more!"

Bucky only hesitates for a moment before he picks up again where she left of.

"You were not yesterday," she mutters when he exclaims "I'm straight!"

He sings louder and louder and finally ends the song with a shout of, "Fine okay, I'm bi!" and Steve and Darcy screaming "Hooray!"

There's a moment of silence and then Natasha looks at him, hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised, and says, "You're not even European."

He flees into the kitchen afterwards but of course his friends only let him have a brief reprieve before Steve comes to find him.

"So," he grins.

"Yeah," Bucky says, he has the urge to cross his arms so instead he shoves his hand into the pocket of his jeans.

"That was very brave of you," Steve says, always so damn sincere.

"Oh please, you came out long ago and I only figured it out just now," Bucky laughs. "Could've probably figured it out sooner too if I hadn't had my head so far up my ass."

"Oh come on, Buck. There are thousands of people who don't figure it out until much later and that's just as legit. Is not as if exploring your sexuality comes with a best-by date."

"Wise words from the scrawny man," Darcy laughs from the kitchen doorway.

"Ah, but I'm not wrong," Steve says, tipping his head towards her.

"Are you ever?" she asks, coming forward and sliding her arm around Steve's waist.

They both look at Bucky and, okay now he really feels like he's being ambushed.

"So you're bi," Darcy says finally after the silence has stretched on for just a tad too long.

Steve elbows her in the side. They are so not subtle at all.

"Yeah," Bucky shrugs, "well, I'm still kinda not sure about the actually having sex part but, y'know definitely attracted to more than just girls."

"Mmh," Darcy hums and Steve elbows her again. "Will you stop that?" she laughs, "I'm just trying to gauge our chances of talking him into a threesome."

Bucky almost chokes his own tongue at that, his face growing hot with the flush that's creeping into his cheeks.

Darcy smirks.

"You're both ace as a hammer, so there's not much we could do," Bucky chokes out eventually when he feels he can do words again.

"And you're not sure you want sex, either," Darcy adds and dammit, she's still got that calculating look in her eyes. Steve is alternating between blushing, staring at the floor and looking between the two of them expectantly.

"That too," Bucky concedes. "Also I kinda have a girlfriend in case you forgot."

"Speak of the devil," Natasha drawls from where she's leaning against the door frame (and how long has she been standing there exactly?). "Bucky, darling, could you help me clean up the mess in the living room?"

"Of course, sweetheart," Bucky says and makes his exit.

"This is why you're my favorite," Bucky whispers to Tasha when he walks past her and into the living room.

"This is why you love me," Natasha corrects and Bucky nods, "That and you let me sleep in your bed every night."

"And I never even complain that you hog the blankets," Tasha grins.

"Because you hog all the pillows," he shoots back.

"Come on, move your lazy ass and help me clean up, I wasn't kidding about that part," Natasha grumbles.

"I know, I know," Bucky laughs and gets to work cleaning up the popcorn and chips strewn across the couch and the floor while Natasha packs away the video game stuff.

At the end of the day, he decides, it went alright.

* * *

 It's a lazy Saturday afternoon near the end of the summer holidays and they're all hanging out at Darcy's place, lounging around and not doing much of anything.

Steve's got his sketchbook out but he's been doodling absentmindedly for the last few minutes instead of doing anything real because he keeps getting distracted by the others.

Bucky is sprawled out across the couch, his legs sprawled over Darcy's lap and his head in Natasha's.

Darcy has her book propped open against Bucky's calf, reading as if nothing is amiss and she's not currently being used as a human mattress.

Natasha's fingers are buried in Bucky's hair, pulling out the tangles and massaging his scalp, and Bucky keeps making these little noises, sighs and huffs and the tiniest of moans, and it's really impacting Steve's ability to concentrate.

Steve is sitting cross-legged on the carpeted living room floor across from the couch, with a perfect view of all three of them and they look so comfortable and languid, he can't pass up the chance to draw all three of them.

He flips to a new page in his sketchbook and starts drawing them, darting glances at the curve of Darcy's mouth, twitching up in a tiny smile, and Natasha's clever fingers playing with Bucky's hair.

He looks at them, bathed in afternoon sunlight, strewn across the couch, looking like the picture of relaxation and happiness, Steve looks at them and he realizes he loves them. Loves them all and fuck whoever says saying 'I love you' too much makes it less significant. He'll say it as often as he wants because it's true.

He loves Bucky, probably has since they were children, tearing through Brooklyn together and making their parents' hairs go gray. And he loves Darcy, with her soft face and her sharp tongue, and their one year anniversary is coming up soon. And he loves Natasha, behind all her walls, loves her grace and her dorky side and her impressive knife collection.

He loves them all and it hits him like a tidal wave, faster than a running horse, and it sweeps his feet out from under him, but he's surprisingly okay for all that.

Maybe that's because he's seen this coming for weeks now, rumbling in the air like distant thunder while they were all still getting to know each other. But now it's here, splashing cold and salty in his face like the best kind of wake up call and he welcomes it, stands with his arms wide open, welcoming the flood into the harbor (sits on the living room floor, flooded with sunlight, charcoal smudges on his hands looking up at the people he loves).

"Peggy, hey!" Steve waves when he sees Peggy push open the door to the diner.

"Steve," she calls as soon as she spots him, walking over to the booth. "It's so good to see you."

"You, too. How was England?" Steve asks.

"It was good," Peggy says, sliding into the seat opposite him, "but stressful. Remind me not to go away at the end of vacation again. And I missed you guys, of course."

"Aw, Peggy. That's so sweet of you," Steve smiles.

"Oh shut it, Rogers. We all saw how mushy you got when Bucky came back," Peggy laughs. "There's no secrets here," she says, gesturing at the two of them.

"Alright, alright, whatever you say," Steve laughs, handing Peggy one of the menus.

"Do you think it's possible to love more than one person at once?" he asks after a moment, face still firmly hidden behind the menu.

"Of course," Peggy says immediately and he didn't even know how much the anticipation was weighing on him until it's gone. "It's called polyamory. You got anything to tell me, Steve?" she asks, glancing at him over the top of her menu.

"Maybe?" he hazards. "I don't- I'm not really- no, that's a lie. I am sure."

"Okay..."

"Let's order first," Steve decides and okay yeah, maybe he's nervous admitting it to himself is supposed to be healthy, right? Not living in denial and all that.

"Okay, so you wanna tell me what's going on now?" Peggy asks once the waitress has come and taken their orders.

"Okay, yeah. I think so." Steve rubs his knuckles over the short hairs on the side of his head, a nervous tic he's developed over the course of the last year.

"I think I'm in love with Darcy, Bucky and Natasha."

There. There it is, now. Out in the open and there's no taking it back, but he finds he doesn't want to. Saying it out loud makes it real, tangible and it feels – really, really good actually.

Peggy just smiles at him until he blushes under her unwavering gaze.

"What?"

"I'm just happy for you," she says, a smile breaking over her face. "Have you talked to them about it yet?" At Steve's silence she raises an eyebrow. "Darcy, at least?"

"I'm gonna, okay?" Steve says, just a little defensive. "I just," he sighs. "I just wanted to talk to someone else about it first, I guess."

"An outsider's perspective," she nods. "I get it."

"Thanks, Peg," Steve says.

Peggy takes a sip from her soda and looks at him as if considering something.

"So, when are you gonna talk to Darcy about it?"

"Um, soon?"

"Better hurry up, huh? Good chances tend not to last very long in real life."

"Gee, thanks Peg. No pressure or anything, right?"

* * *

 "Jane!" Darcy calls, running towards Jane, dodging airport personnel and other people's luggage until she can finally throw her arms around Jane. "Oh my god, I am so glad you're back! I missed you so much! I have so much to tell you. You will not believe this! How are you? How was Sweden? How was Thor?" The last question is asked with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle and a smirk.

Darcy squawks indignantly when Jane swats at the back of her head.

"Is that a way to greet your oldest and dearest friend in the whole wide world?" Darcy mumbles into Jane's hair.

"I missed you, too, Darcy," Jane mumbles back.

"So," Darcy says, finally letting Jane go to hold her at arm length and look her over properly. "You look good. Did Sweden treat you well?"

"It was amazing, Darcy. The woods? They are ma-gi-cal, believe me. You would've loved them."

"And how was the science? Did you have to do that in Swedish? Oh my god."

"No, I mean my Swedish is passable now, but Dr. Selvig is American so the research was in English. But, oh my god, Dr. Selvig is brilliant, Darcy. He is amazing. It was such a great opportunity to work with him. I learned more than I learned in ten years of public school education taken together."

Darcy is leading the way out of the airport while Jane rambles on until they reach Sam, leaning against his car outside.

"Sam," Jane calls, bounding over to him and wrapping him in a hug. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you. How are you? You must be tired from the flight." Sam smiles.

"A little," Jane shrugs, "mostly still running on adrenaline and excitement."

"Aren't we all always?" Darcy asks from where she's shoving Jane's suitcase into the trunk.

"True," Jane laughs.

"Thank you for driving us," Jane says to Sam when they're all in the car. "And thanks to both of you for picking me up."

"Hey, no prob," Sam replies easily.

"For real," Darcy agrees. "Also, did I mention I have so much to tell you?"

"Yeah, you might've mentioned it," Jane laughs.

"So, what is that thing you wanted to tell me all about?" Jane asks later when they're sitting across from each other on Jane's bed.

"Okay, so you remember Steve, right-"

"Of course I remember Steve he lives just down the street and he's kinda hard to forget. Also, I've been gone one year, not ten."

"Well, yeah. Anyway. So remember how he and I started dating at the end of summer and, don't worry J, we haven't broken up or anything but, well at the start of this summer his friend Bucky came back from Russia-"

"Yeah, I remember him. Really nice, always had to drag Steve out of fights."

"Right, that's him. And he brought his girlfriend, Natasha, exchange student from Russia and well, we've kinda been hanging out a lot over the summer, just the four of us, and."

"Yes? Come on, Darcy. Spit it out."

"I might kinda have a thing for my boyfriend's best friend and also for my boyfriend's best friend's girlfriend, ugh," Darcy blurts out, falling backwards onto the bed.

"But, you still also have a thing for your boyfriend, yes?" Jane asks after a moment.

"Yes," Darcy groans.

"Well, I don't get why you're being all groan-y and huffy about this."

"Seriously?" Darcy asks, incredulous.

"Seriously." Jane shakes her leg. "All you gotta do is talk about it."

"You make it sound so easy," Darcy whines.

Jane obligingly starts carding her fingers through Darcy's hair when Darcy puts her head on Jane's thigh. This is why Jane is her favorite.

"It is, or well, it can be. If you just talk about it. Just talk to Steve, find out if it's even a possibility on his side. Then you can think about the rest together."

"'M pretty sure Steve's been secretly in love with Bucky and vice versa since they were kids and Natasha is amazing, it's impossible not to fall for her. She's funny and smart and she has great hair, like, always. It's red and all curly and springy when you tug on it. And she smells great. Ugh, save me, Jane. I'm in love life hell."

"Hmm, you sound like you're enjoying it." Jane laughs.

"You, my friend, are cruel and devious," Darcy says, pressing a hand to her chest like she's been wounded.

"The Swedes taught me," Jane grins.

"Nah, you've always been like that. It's why we fit together like fire and flame."

"I really missed you, you know."

"I missed you, too," Darcy sighs. "So now," she sits up. "how is Thor and who allowed him to have a puppy that adorable?"

"Right?!" Jane says. "And you only saw him in pictures. He is adorable. Though he has some weird Old Norse name, Tanngrisnir."

"Tan what?"

"Right? Well, Thor's parents are super into mythology cause they're mythology professors and they already named him Thor so he decided to roll with the theme."

"Ah but back to my original question, how is Thor?" Darcy asks, waggling her eyebrows at Jane.

"Oh quit it, you. He's good. He's great actually. You met him, he was super sweet and everyone at school was really nice, too. He said he'll come visit soon when he gets a chance to," Jane sighs.

"Wow, that sure sounds super solid, huh?"

"Yeah, well," Jane says. "What can you do? He's got school in Sweden, you know, and his family and his friends. We'll skype a lot. It'll work out somehow."

"I hope so, for you. Hey, Janey, don't be sad, yeah?" Darcy puts an arm around Jane's shoulder, pulling her in.

"No, I'm not," Jane says (sniffles). "Anyway, I took some pictures of the nature in my free time. Thor's family lives right next to a lake, it's beautiful. There was this little island in the middle of the lake and it was so completely untouched it was just magical. I need to show Steve the pictures. He'll love them. He was the one that really got me into photography, anyway."

"Sure, you wanna see if he's home right now? We can go over," Darcy suggests.

"Sounds like a plan," Jane grins.

After Jane leaves to sleep off her jet lag Steve turns to Darcy.

"We need to talk."

Darcy almost chokes on her own tongue.

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?" she wheezes, trying to sound light and like she doesn't care, nope, not at all.

"I- no. Why would I?" Steve asks, concern and confusion written in his frown.

"I don't know. Lotsa reasons. But those are break-up words, 'we need to talk' that's like saying 'honey, I'm gonna go get cigarettes, be right back.'"

"Okay, well then I want to have a conversation with you. Better?"

"Yes, but I'm still concerned. But actually, I've been wanting to talk to you, too," Darcy admits.

"Oh yeah? What about?" Steve asks, looking at her curiously.

"No no no no no, you go first." Darcy shakes her head, her hair flying wildly.

"Okay, okay. I will. Just- gimme a moment." Steve scratches his neck and looks down at his crossed legs.

"What is it? Are you nervous? You're never nervous." Oh god, she's babbling. "Steve, you're kinda worrying me here."

"It's. Nothing bad? At least I don't think so. I just don't know how you're gonna react," Steve admits.

"Well, only one way to find out, is there?"Darcy asks. The anticipation is killing her. She just really wants to get it over with.

"I love you, Darce, I wanna say that in advance just to- you know, I still love you but. I think I kinda like Bucky, too. And Natasha. I- have feelings for all three of you."

It takes her a moment to parse that because Steve is mumbling and bumbling and then she- she just can't help it.

Darcy breaks down laughing.

She falls back onto the bed with the force of her laughter and she knows in some part of her brain that this is so bad, that it's unfair to Steve, that she should give him an answer and she's trying to talk but she's laughing too hard.

"Darcy?" Steve sounds concerned and confused again. "Are you okay? You're not choking, are you? I'm not that good at mouth to mouth."

Darcy is trying to get herself back under control but every time she even comes close the situation hits her again. And to think she was worried about what Steve wanted to talk to her about, Jesus Christ and the holy mother Mary.

"Darcy? Can you please at least answer me? Some kind of reaction? Please? You're not laughing at me, are you?"

"No, no I'm not, Steve," she finally manages to choke out. "It's just- Jesus," she wipes honest to god tears from her eyes, "I've been meaning to tell you the same thing.

"What?"

"When I said I wanted to talk to you earlier it was about this, the same thing."

"I- Darcy I think you need to be upright and breathing for this conversation," Steve says, sounding slightly lost. "And the explain. In very small words."

"Okay." Darcy sits up, runs a hand through her hair to get it back to order. "Okay, okay. Present and accounted for."

"Okay."

"Steve," she starts, taking Steve's hands in hers. "I love you." She looks him straight in the eyes. Nice and steady now, Lewis. "I'm also falling for Bucky. And I'm also also falling for Natasha."

"Dang," Steve breathes.

"Yeah, you can say that again."

"Double dang," Steve sighs and then he sits up just a little straighter. "So what are we gonna do about this?"

"Do you want to do anything about it?"

"Of course, I mean if you do. What should we do instead? Just ignore it and go on?"

"Works for me almost every time."

"I'm gonna go with a firm 'no' here," Steve says, shaking his head but there's a smile playing around his lips.

"This is such a ridiculous situation, honestly," Darcy can't help but say.

"Don't you start giggling again, Darcy," Steve says and he actually shakes his finger at her, god bless his little soul.

"Just, imagine." Darcy puts her hand to her ear and mouth as if she's speaking into a telephone. "Oh mom, hey. No, I was just discussing with my boyfriend what we should do about our two best friends who we've developed feelings for and who are also currently in a relationship with each other. Oh also, what's for dinner today?"

"We should take them out on a date," Steve says decisively.

"Wh-" Darcy is momentarily left spluttering. "Shouldn't we, I don't know, try to test the waters first or something?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm more the jump in the deep end type," Steve says with a crooked grin that makes Darcy want to take over the world with him.

"Yeah, might've caught my attention," she grins back.

Steve takes her face in his hands and kisses her, then, both of them still grinning widely which makes it all the better.

It's raw and wicked and just a little rough around the edges and when Darcy pulls back all she can say is, "We should take them out on a date."

"I knew you were my kinda girl, Lewis." Steve is still grinning furiously and he's still rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone so she takes the chance to kiss him again.

"How do you think they'll react?" she asks, pulling Steve down with her so they're sprawled out over his bed.

"Hard to say, kinda. Hmm. No, I'm coming up blank," Steve admits.

"You think Tasha knows?"

"She's good at reading people so, maybe? I mean I only figured it out a little while ago, so..."

"Yeah, same here," Darcy nods.

"You think Bucky is in denial? He used to be when we were younger."

"He just came out to us, Stevie. Pretty sure he's firmly not in denial land anymore."

"He could still be in denial about his feelings, though," Steve says, tracing patterns on the back of Darcy's hand.

"I don't think he is, Steve. I honestly don't think he is." Darcy rolls over so she's lying on her stomach, her chin propped up on Steve's chest.

"Yeah?" Steve sounds so small all of a sudden.

"Yeah." Darcy tries to sound as reassuring as possible because, fuck, making a move on your oldest, dearest childhood friend must be scary. And that's not even counting the whole polyamory thing.

"Okay, okay, let's call Buck," Steve says, tapping the screen of his phone several times until he's pulled up Bucky's contact info.

Darcy can't help but let out a stifled giggle while the phone rings.

It's so weird and surreal, the two of them lying on their stomachs on Steve's bed, the phone between them as they wait for Bucky to take the call.

They see each other everyday and it feels silly to call him on the phone now when they could just go over and talk to him. But on the other hand this whole situation and what they're about to do is new and weird.

"Hello?" comes Bucky's voice, tinny over the speakers of the phone.

"Hey, Buck," Steve says.

"Hey ho," Darcy drawls.

"Hey, Darcy. And Steve." Bucky sounds somewhere between confused and suspicious.

"Is Tasha with you?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, she is," Bucky says and Darcy can imagine him sitting next to Natasha on the couch, her toes under his thigh, and looking over at her as he says it. "Why?"

"Put us on speakerphone, will you?"

"Okay, you're on speaker now," Bucky says a moment later.

"Hey Steve, hey Darcy," Natasha greets them.

"Hey Tasha," Darcy giggles. "So," she draws out the word, looking to Steve for help.

"We wanted to ask you something," he supplies helpfully.

"And you couldn't just send a text?" Natasha asks and Darcy can hear the smirk in her voice, no kidding.

"Or come over?" Bucky adds.

"Will you please shut it and let us talk?"

"Calm your teets, Rogers, we're listening," Bucky laughs.

"So," Darcy starts again. "We wanted to know if you-"

"-wanted to do something with us tomorrow." Steve hesitates. "As in, all four of us-"

"Together," Darcy adds, just to drive their point home.

There's silence on the other end of the line for several moments before Bucky says, "uh, sure?", sounding more confused than ever.

"Great," Steve breathes, relief evident on his face. "We'll pick you up at noon, is that okay?"

"Um, yeah," Bucky says, "sure, okay."

"Okay, see you then," Darcy smiles, so wide her cheeks hurt and Steve smiles back at her.

"Weird," they hear Natasha mumble just before the call is disconnected.

Steve flops down onto the bed, faceplanting on his phone, and lets out a groan.

"Oh come on," Darcy sing-songs, poking him in the side, "that wasn't so bad."

"It was terrible," Steve says into the comforter.

"They said yes," Darcy replies. And Steve can't really argue with that.

* * *

 Darcy and Steve find themselves on Bucky's doorstep at exactly 11:59 because Darcy is super organized when she wants to be (and a complete chaos when she doesn't) and Steve is just really, really nervous and didn't want to be late.

"Hey, guys!" Natasha greets when she opens the door.

"Are you ready?" Darcy asks.

"Yeah, sure. Just, come on in," Natasha waves, turning to walk down the hall.

"Is she acting weird?" Steve finds himself whispering to Darcy as they follow Natasha into the living room.

"What're we even doing? You guys never said," Bucky says in lieu of greeting when he comes trudging down the stairs.

"We thought we'd go to the park. Have a picnic, maybe," Steve says, awkwardly holding up his backpack. It's filled with sandwiches and sodas and a blanket but Bucky can't see that, of course, Steve realizes, so the gesture is pretty useless.

"Okay, sure," Bucky shrugs.

They spend the walk to the park in silence, mostly because it's too crowded for them to all walk side by side, but Steve can't decide if it's an awkward silence or if it's just awkward to him because he feels awkward.

He can't imagine what it must be like to accurately assess situations and understand social cues.

There's a lot of people at the park, enjoying the last days of summer. Kids running around, shrieking and laughing, their parents on park benches, calling out to them not to run too far away.

"Let's find somewhere a little... less loud," Darcy says.

"Hey, Stevie," Bucky turns to him, "want me to carry that bag o' yours for a while?"

"I can carry it just fine," Steve scoffs.

"Sure you can, I'd never doubt ya. Just don't want you having an attack and ruining our picnic, do we?"

And Steve puts up some protest but he also hands over the bag because, okay yeah, maybe it was getting a little heavy. Whatever."

"Thanks, Buck," he mutters because he wasn't raised by wolves.

"Always for my best pal, huh?" Bucky grins, bumping Steve's shoulder. He can't tell if Bucky's flirting with him or if Steve just really wants him to be.

They walk for a while until they find a relatively quiet spot a little away from the rest of the park-goers.

Darcy and Natasha lay out the blanket, struggling against the wind that keeps whipping it up and ruining their good work.

"Fight me!" Natasha yells into the sky, throwing her arms out, while Darcy turns towards Bucky and him.

"Steve, gimme your shoes," she calls.

"What?"

"We need to weigh the blanket down. Unless Natasha really fights the wind and wins."

"Are you doubting me?" Natasha calls, turning towards Darcy with an expression of fake shock.

"I'd never, darling," Darcy says, blowing her a kiss. Natasha ducks her head, one hand coming up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"Use your own shoes," Steve calls back.

Darcy looks down at the flip flops she's wearing, then up at Steve, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah, that's gonna work out great."

"Fine, fine," Steve mutters, pulling his shoes off. "But you don't get to act all high and mighty when I catch a cold because of this."

"You're not made of glass, isn't that what you're always telling me?" Darcy grins, coming towards Steve to take the shoes from his hands with a quick peck to his cheek. "But you're sweet enough to be made of sugar," she winks.

"That was a horrible, horrible pick-up line," Steve calls after her.

"Not like she really needs to pick you up anymore," Bucky laughs.

"I could, though, just for the record," Darcy cackles. "Literally and metaphorically."

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Make fun of the small guy," Steve grumbles, but there's no heat behind his words.

"You know we love you," Natasha grins, plopping down next to him on the picnic blanket.

"Aww, look at you," Bucky coos. "You blush so fast your blush could be the next Flash."

"Go eat a cactus, you schlumpf."

"I'm gonna rain check on that one, though I would gladly eat a sandwich," Bucky laughs, looking around for Steve's bag.

Darcy beats him to it, the tupperware already open in her lap.

"Here you go," Darcy says, cheery as all hell as she hands Bucky a sandwich.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Ugh, you sound like a suburban couple," Natasha groans, letting herself fall over and into Steve's lap.

Steve," she looks up at him, really drawing that syllable out for all it's worth. "Play with my hair, Steve!"

"Natasha confirmed for kitten," Darcy mutters under her breath, which earns her a poke in the thigh from Natasha's toes.

"You're actually gonna have to sit up if you wanna eat a sandwich," Steve can't help but say. Someone has to be the responsible one in this train wreck of a (hopefully) relationship and it's not gonna be Natasha from the look of her pout.

"You can feed me grapes," she says, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Bucky is laughing at them, probably mostly at Steve, but he's also handing him a bunch of grapes because he knows no one can resist Natasha's pout and puppy eyes combo. It's a lethal force.

"You are so easy, Rogers," Darcy cackles, clapping her hands gleefully.

Bucky, meanwhile, has devoured his sandwich and grabbed a water from the bag. He wordlessly holds out the unopened bottle.

Natasha looks up at him briefly, a grape between her teeth. "You can open that yourself," she grunts.

Bucky turns, looking at Darcy now with his puppy eyes turned on all the way.

"Oh fine, give it here," Darcy grumbles, but she opens the bottle which earns her a wide smile from Bucky.

"Love you best," he promises and Darcy blushes just a little.

"Who's easy now, Lewis?" Steve laughs.

"Still you," comes the answer from all three of them.

"Wow," he says over the ensuing laughter. "That's just rude. Biting the hand that feeds you." He holds up the grapes over Natasha's head so that they're just out of her reach.

"Steve," she complains, frowning up at him.

"What?" he grins, "Is this too hard for you, Tasha? Oh, I'm sorry. Want me to make it easier for you?"

"You're a gigantic wanker," Natasha grumbles, pushing herself up into a sitting position again.

She's on eye level with Steve now and her hair is shining fiery red in the sunlight and Steve honestly doesn't know what’s possessed him when he asks, right there and then, "Can I kiss you?"

All eyes are on him suddenly and everything kind of freezes for a moment before Natasha says, "What?"

Steve can't read her tone, can't figure out if she's disgusted or confused or shocked.

"What?" comes the same question from Bucky.

He looks over at Darcy who's still watching Natasha. "What," she turns towards Bucky, and she sounds confused that much Steve can tell.

"You're not-" Bucky makes some kinda complicated gesture in his and Natasha's direction.

"No?" Darcy says and it comes out sounding like a question.

"I'm sorry," Steve turns to look Natasha in the eye while he says it. "If that was too early, or just something you don't want at all I understand that, of course, and I respect that-"

He's rambling, he knows so he's kinda glad when Natasha interrupts him.

"Too early?"

The question doesn't make any sense to Steve but Darcy seems to realize something because her eyebrows go up and then immediately pull down into a frown.

"This," she starts slowly, "is ... a ... date?" It ends up sounding like a question.

"A date?" Bucky asks and he sounds very confused. Everyone is just very confused right now. "As in a double date."

"As in a date. All four of us on one date. Together." Steve says, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

"This is a date," Natasha repeats and realization dawns on her face.

"You're serious?" Bucky looks around, his eyes catching on Natasha.

"I admit I've thought about it," she shrugs.

"You're not joking, are you?" Bucky asks turning to Darcy and Steve.

"We thought we- okay yeah, no. We didn't make it clear, but yes, we meant for this to be a date."

"Sorry," Steve mumbles, ducking his head. He's blushing again, goddammit.

"I- don't apologize," Bucky's struggling for words. "I just-" he looks over at Natasha. "I think some time, to figure things out? Yeah, we need some time." Natasha is nodding along to his words.

"Yeah, of course," Darcy jumps in. Steve is frozen in place and he thinks if he so much as open his mouth he might puke from nervousness. "take as much time as you need."

It's kind of awkward after that, Bucky and Nat gathering up their things and going back to Bucky's place. Definitely not how Steve'd imagined the end of today.

"That. Was terrible," Steve says with a big sigh.

"They didn't say no," Darcy replies. "They said they needed time to think. So, it's not all over just yet." And Steve can't really argue with that.

* * *

 "What- the fuck was that," Bucky breathes as soon as the door closes behind them. "What the fuck?" He runs a hand through his hair, getting more and more agitated.

"Buck," Natasha puts a hand on his shoulder, pulls him into a hug. His hair is getting into her mouth but she doesn't care.

"I have absolutely no idea what just happened," Bucky mumbles into her neck.

"Yeah, it- was kinda out of the blue," she admits.

Bucky pulls away just to give her a wide-eyed look. "That's why they were acting so weird on the phone yesterday."

"Okay, I have to admit something. Darcy and I have, kinda talked about it before. Well, we talked about you and Steve. But only very briefly. And we both agreed that it's your decision to make."

"Me and Steve," Bucky says haltingly.

"You know what I'm talking about," she says, staring him down because she does not have time for this. This is the least clusterfucked part of this whole giant clusterfuck.

"So it was that obvious."

"Only if you knew where to look," Natasha tilts her head. "Come on, let's go to your room. Don't really wanna have this conversation in the entrance hall, do we?"

"Yeah," Bucky sighs and follows her up the stairs.

"What you," Bucky starts when they're both sitting on his bed. "What you said in the park, that you'd thought about it before..." he trails off, clearly waiting for her to say something.

"I had a – what do you call it? Epiphany – an epiphany a while back. When I locked myself in the bathroom at Steve's house? Yeah, that was when I realized."

"Realized what?" Bucky prompts and she thinks he can tell by now, he just needs her to say it out loud, to make it a real, tangible thing.

"Realized I'm a little in love with all three of you," she says, voice steady and firm.

Bucky stares into the middle distance for a moment.

"I think I've maybe loved Steve since before I even knew how to spell my own name," he says finally. It feels raw, like a confession, like it was ripped out of him, and Natasha realizes this is most likely the first time he's ever said it out loud.

"And Darcy is, well," he continues before she can say anything, "she's something, isn't she?" He looks up at her, as if looking for guidance.

"She's amazing," she says with a smile.

"I, yeah, I think I might be a little in love with her, too." Bucky scrubs a hand over his face.

"By now I think it's pretty much impossible not to be."

"You might be onto something there," Bucky grins and she's glad to see he's back to witty comebacks already.

"Do you- do you think..." Now Natasha's the one trailing off, but she just does not know how to form the question she wants to ask.

"I-" of course Bucky gets it, anyway, that's what you get for practically living in each other's brain. "I think, yeah. I mean at least it's worth a try, right? We should at least try to, make it work or whatever." He sighs again. "Why's this all have to be so complicated?"

"Love is never easy, is it?"

"Way to be a pessimist, Tasha," Bucky says, but he's also chuckling, so it's a win in her books.

Natasha wakes up the next morning to Bucky jumping on her bed because he is actually a five year old. Okay, he's not really jumping so much as sitting on her bed and bouncing, but point still stands.

"What?" Natasha groans.

"I wanna text Steve and Darcy."

"Quit bouncing," Natasha reaches out of her blanket burrito with one hand to put it on Bucky's leg.

"Come on, Tasha," Bucky whines.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know. Like, twelve?"

She grabs her phone from under her pillow and unlocks it. "It's 8 am," she groans.

"I can't sleep anymore. I wanna text 'em."

"Shouldn't we call? That's more personal," Natasha says.

"That's gonna be really freaking awkward, though. Texting is better," Bucky assures her.

"Okay, well whatever you say," Natasha shrugs, sitting up.

"Okay, so I thought we could go to a bookstore, a second hand one," Bucky grins.

"As a date," Natasha adds, just to clarify they're talking about the same thing.

"Yeah, as a date," Bucky nods. "Okay, so how about this, 'Hey ho! Sorry about leaving so abruptly yesterday. Can we make it up to you? How about we meet at the second hand bookstore on Vanderbilt Ave at 3 today? As a date. xxx Bucky and Tasha.'"

"Beautiful," Natasha drawls, "Hemingway couldn't have said it better."

"That's because Hemingway was a dick," Bucky grumbles. "Are you sure this sounds okay?" He looks anxious, chewing on a strand of hair.

"Yes, it is. Don't worry," Natasha smiles.

"Okay," Bucky says, with a big sigh, "I sent it."

* * *

"This is literally the most hipster date ever," Darcy grins, tracing a finger over the books as she scans the shelves of the cramped little bookstore.

"And I didn't even have anything to do with it," Steve says from where he's climbing up a ladder to reach the books up high on the shelves. "You always harp on me for being such a hipster, but we all know Bucky is the one who listens to his Dad's old vinyls."

"I'm holding up the ladder you're standing on, buddy, so you better stop talking bull about me," Bucky grumbles.

"As if you would ever let me fall," Steve laughs and it makes Bucky feel all fuzzy inside. He climbs back down, three books pressed to his chest.

"What'd you find?" Natasha asks, poking her head around a corner.

"This sounds really good," Steve hands her one of the books he just found.

"A space soldier, who's half wolf and half human – so a werewolf basically – on a quest to get his wings back? What about this sounds good to you?" She looks up at Steve with a horrified expression.

"I think I had an OC like that in middle school," Darcy muses, finger tapping her chin as if she’s deep in thought. Bucky can't help but snort.

"You, Steve, have horrible taste in books," Natasha says, handing the offending book back to Steve. "But look, I found this." She holds up an old, battered paperback with some kind of drawing on the front.

"What is it?"

"Lesbian pulp fiction," Natasha grins. Bucky rolls his eyes, which earns him an elbow to the ribs from Natasha.

"Oh," Darcy coos, gimme, gimme." She makes grabby hands at Natasha and the book.

"And what do I get in return?" Natasha asks, holding the book up and out of Darcy's reach.

"A kiss," Darcy says, all casual like.

Natasha takes a step closer to her in invitation, the book held behind her back. Darcy kisses her and Natasha's eyes flutter shut, one of Darcy's hand taking hold of Natasha's chin. When they break apart Darcy grins triumphantly, the book in her hands.

She doesn't have any time to celebrate her victory, though, before Steve taps her on the shoulder, planting a kiss on her as she turns around and snatching the book from her hands.

Darcy squawks indignantly, but Steve ignores her in favor of turning to Bucky.

"You interested in some lesbian literature?" he asks with a grin.

"'M more interested in a kiss," Bucky drawls with a grin of his own.

"Guess that'll have to do then," Steve shrugs before leaning up on his toes and kissing Bucky. His lips are still dry, even all these years later, because Steve always loses his chapstick.

Steve is grinning from ear to ear when he pulls back.

"Here ya go," he says and hands Bucky the book.

Natasha is looking at him expectantly, a small smile on her lips.

Bucky smirks at her, then turns to Darcy. She meets his eyes, smiling so her eyes crinkle behind her glasses. Her smile widens into a grin when he offers up the book to her.

"My hero," she throws her arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. Her lips are soft and taste faintly of cherry and her hair is tickling his cheek and their noses are bumping but it's still a perfect kiss.

What makes it only more perfect are the smiles on Steve and Natasha's faces when they break apart.

"Maybe we should pay for our books and get going," Natasha suggests, "before we get arrested for public indecency."

"That's a brilliant idea," Darcy says. "Have I ever told you how brilliant you are?"

"Probably, but feel free to say it again," Natasha grins, heading towards the front of the shop.

The sound of her and Darcy talking is a familiar, pleasant sound and Bucky feels anchored in the moment, following the two of them with Steve by his side.

Anchored and welcome and pleasantly warm, and it feels like home.

It feels like the start of something good.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! you can also come find me on [tumblr](http://rublair.tumblr.com/)


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